


A Butler's Lack of Influence

by SamCyberCat



Series: Grasping Liquid [6]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Angst, Broken Families, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamCyberCat/pseuds/SamCyberCat
Summary: Parenthood has put a strain on Randall and Angela's relationship. When it becomes too much, Angela decides to take a break from Monte d'Or, leaving Henry caring for a depressed Randall and an unruly child who wants nothing to do with him.





	A Butler's Lack of Influence

**Author's Note:**

> The final side-story for Grasping Liquid, which sets up the timeskip. The last fic I wrote about Rangela having a baby (“A Collage in Broken Glass”) got a bit of attention outside of Grasping Liquid. So you can read this as a sequel to that fic even if you're not following Grasping Liquid.

The boy's head was already pushed between two of the railings at the top of the stairs, staring down at the scene below. It was far too late to stop him from seeing his parents arguing, but then it had been far too late the last five or six times as well. At some point, even Henry had stopped counting.

Oscar didn't cry as he watched, so they probably didn't know he was there. Crying had been one of the factors that had put a strain on the relationship. When he was born, Oscar had rarely stopped crying at all. Only Dalston had been able to placate him. More and more they'd relied on Dalston looking after him, but Oscar was their son, not Dalston's, so that wasn't a permanent solution. Whenever they had Oscar at home, he cried. Randall, Angela and Henry did their best, but it seemed they were less prepared to raise a family than they'd hoped they'd be.

Then one day, Oscar stopped crying. But Randall and Angela did not stop arguing.

Henry saw no reason why tonight would be different to many other nights in that regard. As he walked across the upper hallway, he approached Oscar with the intention of taking him back to his room, but then the scene below caught his attention.

This was not the usual night time argument. Angela was fully-dressed, wearing a huge overcoat. At her side, was a suitcase. A naïve person might've believed she'd planned a trip without mentioning it, but Henry knew better. He gripped the top of the railing and watched in horror. He'd waited many years with Angela for Randall's return, surely she wouldn't leave now? Randall was the love of her life and she'd finally been able to start a family with him. It seemed that Randall felt the same way.

“Angie, you're not thinking straight, let's just talk about this, okay?”

“I've tried talking about this with you many times, Randall,” said Angela, her voice barely steady, “You don't listen. You act like you do, but then nothing changes. You just won't take responsibility.”

“Come on, I've taken lots of responsibility! I do my fair share, don't I?” Randall replied.

“When it suits you, yes, you do. But you can't only deal with our family when you feel like it.”

“What about you? You say that and you're walking out!”

“...Something has to give, Randall. I'm sorry, but Oscar will only get worse if everything stays the same. I'll only get worse. And I know you will as well. I need time... But I'll be back,” said Angela.

“You shouldn't even be leaving in the first place. What about us?” Randall pleaded.

“Look after them for me.”

For a moment, Henry wondered if Angela had known he was eavesdropping and was speaking to him instead of Randall with her final words. But he was too stunned to do anything as he watched her pick up her suitcase and walk past Randall, leaving through the front door and closing it behind her. Randall was too stunned to move as well. He stood there, frozen like a statue. Henry couldn't see his expression from the top of the stairs, but he doubted it was good.

And Oscar still didn't cry.

About a minute passed before Randall regained control of his legs. But he didn't go after Angela, as Henry might've expected. Instead he walked towards the stairs and began to climb them with slow, methodical steps. When he reached Henry, if he was angry that Henry had overheard, then he didn't show it. In fact, Randall just looked empty.

“Mast- ...Randall, would you like me t-”

“I'm sorry, Henry, but I can't do anything tonight. I'm going to my room for a while,” Randall muttered.

With that, he walked past them and continued down the hallway until he reached his room. He didn't even look at Oscar on the way past. Perhaps he didn't know he was there.

But Henry knew he was there and he needed to look after them both, as Angela had asked. He picked up the toddler, trying to figure out what the best course of action was. At this age, Oscar must've been starting to remember and understand better than he could before. He must've known that his mum was gone. Oscar looked up at Henry, but didn't seem to see him any more than Randall had.

In the end, Henry called Dalston to come pick him up. That was what was best for Oscar right now.

***

The weeks went by and they waited for Angela. Each day was a struggle. Randall retreated to his room more and more. When he'd once joyfully soared across the rooftops of Monte d'Or, now he couldn't face them. He couldn't even face the nightly crowds who'd come to see his magic shows. After Angela left, not a single show was performed. Naturally people talked. It wasn't hard to piece together Randall's depression with Angela's disappearance. Then rumours started, as they always did. But after a lifetime of dealing with the press, Henry couldn't be bothered with them any more. His priority was looking after Randall.

Before long, looking after Randall became a full time commitment. Weeks turned into months, which turned into years and Angela never came back like she'd promised she would. There was no sign of her, not a single trace of where she was or what she'd been doing. If there had been, then Henry would've gone looking for her himself. He certainly kept his ear to the ground on the matter. But he never heard anything.

Randall stopped talking about Angela or indeed about anything much, but it was obvious that her loss was affecting him. Visits from their old friends couldn't bring him around. Even Hershel of all people had been greeted with a blank stare and hollow words the one time he'd come to visit. Spitefully, Henry felt that Hershel wasn't as reliable as many wanted to believe. The press even spouted rumours about him leaving his own children, but Henry knew from his own experiences that what the papers said often wasn't trustworthy, so he wasn't sure how much of that to believe.

The bottom line was that now it was just Henry taking care of Randall. Then there was Oscar, but Henry could hardly take much credit for being the one who looked after him.

He pulled the curtain open, letting some much-needed light into Randall's bedroom, before setting the tray with Randall's lunch down on the side. Cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, looking as pristine as everything Henry made. They'd still look that way later, when Henry returned to take the tray, only to find that Randall had either not eaten them or merely nibbled at the sides of one.

“Today is a special day. It's your birthday, so you can't stay in bed all day today,” Henry tried. Randall didn't even roll over to look at him, but Henry carried on without letting that deter him; “It would be nice if we could all have dinner together this evening. I believe Oscar is with Dalston, so I'll go to tell him of our plans, if you like?”

Still no response. Henry knew that Randall had no feelings on if Oscar came to eat dinner with them or not. Sadly, Oscar had grown up to have no feelings on that in return. Actually no, Oscar did have feelings on the matter, Henry would wager, but they'd be largely negative ones.

All the same, Henry had a duty to keep this family together. So he'd make sure that Randall and Oscar both attended the family dinner, whether they wanted to or not.

The walk to Château Dalston was a familiar one. Henry couldn't understand why Oscar wanted to spend so much time there, especially lately. It was understandable when Oscar had been a young child who was limited to where he could go based on where other people took him. But now Oscar was a teenager and more than able to choose for himself where he wanted to go in the city. Monte d'Or was thriving, even in Randall and Angela's absences. There was so much for a young boy to do here that wasn't just hanging around some family-friend's house.

Unfortunately for Henry, the reason why Oscar had been keen to spend as much time here as possible became obvious once he actually found him.

Oscar was not actually in the house today. Instead he was outside it, around the side where Henry knew there was a door that led through to the kitchen. And he was not alone.

It took Henry a moment to register what he was seeing. Oscar wrapped up in the arms of some large, black-haired boy with whom Henry wasn't familiar. The two of them pressed together like it was a scandal. To Henry, Oscar was still an innocent, bright-eyed young man. Seeing him like this made him gasp in surprise.

“Oscar! What are y-”

The two broke apart before Henry could even finish and the other boy legged it through the door back into the kitchen. So he worked for Dalston then. But Henry could find out more about that later. Right now he had to deal with Oscar's savage glare.

“Geez. Thanks for that, Henry... It took me long enough to get him out here,” Oscar muttered.

“Would you care to explain what that was all about?” Henry asked, deciding that someone should do some parenting in lack of Oscar's own parents doing it, “Engaging in such activities out in the open like that. What if someone had seen you?”

“Maybe I don't care as much as you do. Has keeping our shit behind closed doors ever really helped?” said Oscar.

“Language, young man,” Henry said, “I know you probably think it wouldn't make a difference. But if you ended up on the cover of some gossip rag, then you'd feel differently.”

“Oh my god, listen to yourself! No one even cares about us any more. Mum's been gone for years and Dad's been a shut-in for years. It's not like reporters are following me to Dalston's place any more. I'm not sorry for what I was doing.”

“All right... I apologise for my intrusion, I was just... alarmed,” Henry reasoned, not wanting to make Oscar any more hostile than he was already being, “But I did come here to ask you something.”

“What's that?” Oscar's tone was every bit as hostile as it had been just before.

“I hope you remember that it's your father's birthday today. It would be nice for him if we could all dine together this evening,” said Henry.

Oscar snorted; “Nice for him or nice for you?”

“We have to make the effort, Oscar,” Henry insisted, “If we want him to improve, then we need to give him a reason.”

“Why do you care so much?” said Oscar, spreading his hands out as he spoke, “What is all of this to you, Henry? Why do you stick around? Because Mum asked you to? You could just leave any time. You're not with Dad and you're certainly not my Dad.”

“Need I remind you that you both live in my house?” Henry said, feeling his hackles raise.

“Then kick us out. Go on, I dare you!”

“You don't know what you're saying. You're just a... a naïve young man.”

“I know more than you want me to. Always have. You can keep your fake family dinner to yourself!”

With that, Oscar pushed past Henry and darted off down the road towards the circus and then presumably into the main part of the city. Perhaps Henry could've pursued him, but he was getting older now, so he wasn't as spry as a teenager. Besides, even if he did catch up with him, he doubted any conversation would go differently than the one they'd just had.

He looked towards the kitchen door, where the young man Oscar had been with had disappeared through. But he didn't go after him, either. Instead he went around the front and rang the bell. Dogs barked and after a few moments, Dalston himself answered.

“Afternoon, 'enry. What can I do yer for?” Dalston said.

“Good afternoon, Dalston. Sorry to call in on such short notice, but it's about Oscar.”

“When isn't it? Come inside, I'll put on a brew.”

Henry followed Dalston through to the gaudy living room, waiting politely as Dalston made tea before joining him. In the last fifteen years, they'd all changed without actually changing. Each time Henry came here there was new furniture, but it was never any less tacky. Always trying too hard to be bold and make a statement, just like Dalston himself. Prince, Dalston's old dog, slept in a bed by one of the chairs, with a tiny Yorkshire terrier curled up next to him.

When Dalston came back through to join him, Henry regarded him. Henry had accepted age gracefully – his hair was silver now and Henry had no objections to that. But Dalston had immediately turned to hair dye in a failed effort to hide his age. Currently, his hair was closer to blonde than to brown. It wasn't working for him, but it would be rude for Henry to comment.

“So what's Osceh up to this time?” Dalston asked, as he poured himself a cup from the teapot.

“This is... difficult to have to say, but I found him just now outside with someone who I assume is in your employ,” said Henry, “They were... intimately engaged.”

This didn't get the reaction from Dalston that Henry had been hoping for.

“What, yer mean Al? Yeah, 'e's doing a bit o' summer work 'ere for 'is chef training. Wants t' broaden 'is horizons fer cooking and all that. Osceh took a liking to 'im the moment 'e saw 'im, no surprises there.”

“You mean you... knew about this?”

“Wouldn't say that much. I don't go snooping around what those kids get up to. But I 'ad an idea.”

Henry stared at him for a moment; “...Why didn't you tell me? Oscar is still so young. I don't want him getting mixed up with the wrong crowd.”

“Oi, Al's a fine lad,” said Dalston, “And Osceh's going t' be eighteen in a few months, so 'e's 'ardly a kid any more. 'e's already talking about leaving when 'e gets there. Don't push 'im any hardeh.”

“He won't leave, even if he thinks he wants to now. Monte d'Or is his home. He doesn't know anything else,” said Henry. Although he had once thought that Angela wouldn't leave either.

Dalston shrugged; “The worst that'll 'appen is that 'e'll disappear fer a few months, realise 'ow 'omesick 'e is and come back. Better t' let 'im get it out 'is system.”

“That's risky advice...”

“It's the best I've got.”

What if... Oscar left and didn't come back? Just like Angela... Then Randall would have one less reason to get out of bed in the morning. After waiting all this time, Henry just couldn't see Randall give up. If only Angela would come back, if only Oscar would be more reasonable, if only Hershel, Dalston and the others would even try as much as Henry did...

But these outcomes were looking less and less likely every day.

Henry didn't hang around Dalston's house very long after that. He politely finished his tea and they talked a bit more about the state of everything, then Henry excused himself to return home. He had a family dinner to prepare for Randall's birthday.

Except that Oscar didn't show up that evening. After Henry took the effort to bring Randall down from his room, the two of them sat in silence for most of the meal and before long Randall had wandered back upstairs, leaving Henry to clean up.

It was a lonely night after that, as they all were. At around 2am, Henry heard the front door open to mark Oscar's return, but he didn't go down to scold him for his tardiness. Henry was tired in more ways than one.

***

Summer was always a stifling affair in Monte d'Or. That was of course when the tourist trade boomed at its best, with everyone wanting a piece of the famous desert town. This time of year was when Henry was the busiest with work outside of his care for Randall and Oscar. This was still his town, after all, and he wanted to make sure that it ran smoothly.

Over the years, Henry felt that he'd achieved the perfect balance of staple attractions, annual fairs and new additions to keep everything fresh for regular holiday-goers. As an employer, Henry thought of himself as fair. As a business rival to people like Dalston, Henry kept them on their toes without driving them out of the city. This was one thing in Henry's life that he could regard as a success.

The downside was that Henry had no control over who came to the city. For his own hotel and businesses, he could price himself out of the range of rowdy customers and Drake was happy to follow Henry's advice to do the same for the casino. But Henry couldn't force his competitors to follow this example. If the Reunion Inn heightened its prices, then the Camp's Hump Hotel would lower its prices in response, seeing to it that more and more riff raff would come through.

It was unfair to think of them that way. But Henry was troubled by some of the people he saw hanging around sometimes. They stuck together in groups and they brought the sort of influence that Henry didn't want here.

Particularly the sort of influence that he didn't want for Oscar.

So far, the threat of Oscar leaving Monte d'Or had come to naught. His birthday was now a few weeks past, seeing to it that he was legally an adult, and yet still he stayed. The way Henry saw it, the boy must've realised that he was naïve to think he could strike out on his own without anything to take with him. Henry had provided a home and money for Oscar since he was born. Certainly Randall didn't come with nothing from the farm, but that money had long since run out and Angela's lack of contact meant that she hadn't sent any either.

One day Oscar would have to go out there and find work for himself. Henry accepted that, but he'd prefer that it happened in the safety of Monte d'Or. There were no shortage of businesses that Henry could help train Oscar up to run if only he showed an interest.

Speaking of things that Oscar did show an interest in, that boy under Dalston's employ had now gone back to where he came from. Henry had quietly kept tabs on that out of concern for Oscar. He'd learned that Al's full name was Alistair Bell-Driscoll, that he was originally from southern English town of Misthallery, but had since moved to Southampton with his father. From there, Al had travelled the country, working in various restaurants and hotels to hone his craft. Begrudgingly, Henry had to admit that an ambitious person like that wouldn't be the worst that Oscar could've ended up with, but he undoubtedly would've pulled Oscar away from home and that would've been counterproductive. On top of that, it was the nineties now and while Henry kept an open mind (he'd have been hypocritical not to), people would talk about the son of Randall Ascot getting involved with another man.

It was for the best that whatever relationship Oscar had with that boy seemed to be short-lived. At least that was what Henry thought before he found Oscar with an even worse influence.

On this occasion, Henry hadn't even been seeking Oscar out. He'd heard word from the gallery owner that a rough crowd was hanging around and he'd come with Sheffield and a few of the local officers to move them along. Nothing major, just a show of face so that these people would know they were being watched.

Unfortunately, that was where Henry had found Oscar.

The group themselves were loitering down a side-street near the gallery in a cloud of smoke. Drifters, by the looks of it. You got them, even here. All sorts of people from all sorts of places, but all of them down on their luck.

The last thing that Henry wanted to see was Oscar hunched up next to some washed-out stoner, listening with wide, eager eyes to tales of his travels. Henry's heart leapt into his mouth as he headed down the street with Sheffield and caught sight of him. The intention had been for the police to politely move the group along while Henry stood back, but upon seeing that, Henry couldn't stop himself from pushing forward.

“Oscar! What do you think you're doing?” Henry demanded.

Upon hearing Henry's voice, Oscar jumped to his feet, looking as guilty as if he'd been caught doing much worse than just sitting on a street listening to a homeless man's stories. But that guilt soon shifted to anger, all of it directed at Henry.

“What's it to you? We're not hurting anyone!” he snapped.

The man he'd been sat with pulled himself slowly to his feet. He was taller than Henry had realised, but hunched in a way that took away from that. His hair was an unkempt mess and the red rings around his eyes, combined with his unfortunate face told a story of years of substance abuse all on their own. In truth, Henry was scared to see Oscar with such a person. But then... the homeless man smiled. It was a dopey, vacant smile, but he didn't seem to mean any harm.

“It's cool, little guy. Deffo don't want you getting in trouble with your dad,” he said.

“Henry's not my dad!” Oscar replied.

“No, but I am responsible for you while you remain in my care, whether you like it or not,” Henry insisted, “Just... come back to the house with me.”

Oscar looked between Henry and the homeless man without budging.

“Hey, just go with him,” said the homeless man, “An old bum's stories aren't worth getting into trouble over. Looks like we've outstayed our welcome here anyway.”

“If you say so, Louis... But we'll talk again before you guys leave town, right?” Oscar asked.

“Maybe we will. All of us are heading off our different ways, so you never know,” said the man called Louis, “That's being a drifter for you.”

“I wish I was a drifter...” Oscar whispered

“You don't,” Henry said, stepping between Louis and Oscar, “You don't know what you're saying. Just... come home now.”

“Whatever, Henry...”

Despite his moody response, Oscar did follow Henry out of the side-street after that, leaving Sheffield to move along for rest of the drifters. But from what Henry saw, it didn't take much effort. The group were peaceful and moved away on their own accord. They weren't a threat, but if Henry started to let that kind of crowd into the city, then it was a slippery slope into worse people starting to hang around. Monte d'Or was a clean town and Henry wanted its reputation to stay that way.

The two of them walked in silence back the Ledore Mansion, but once they arrived, Henry spoke up again.

“I know you think I'm keeping you prisoner, but I only want what's best for you. You'll understand that when you're older,” he said.

“Right.”

That was the only reply he got. Oscar pushed the door open and went inside, heading up to his room. Henry waited a while before heading inside, although he went to a different room. After what happened, it would be wrong not to see Randall.

The curtains were drawn, but Henry didn't open them today. Instead he walked across to the bundle of blankets wrapped up in the middle of the large bed. He sat on the edge, judging the stiff posture of Randall's back to mean that he was awake before he spoke.

“Oscar has... gotten in with a bad crowd. I don't think it's serious, but I fear that he's going to become more restless if we don't give him something to occupy his mind. I think it would be good for him if... if his dad spoke to him about it.”

Nothing. Randall clearly had no intention to speak to Oscar or anyone else. Oh Angela... where were you...?

“I think that I'll enrol him in an apprenticeship for the hotel business,” Henry continued, “I'll be there to watch over him and since it's the same line of work as Dalston, perhaps he'll be more likely to go along with it.”

After all, Oscar was the most fond of Dalston. The two of them went on fishing trips together, went to the circus together, Oscar would seek Dalston out to ask his advice. He did everything with Dalston that a boy would do with his father.

It wasn't as if Henry hadn't tried. Oscar just wasn't willing to meet him halfway.

“Yes, let's... go ahead with that. I'll break the news to Oscar in the morning. Have a good evening, Master Randall.”

For once, Henry didn't bother to correct his own slip-up at calling Randall his master. No one who was listening cared either way. With a heavy heart, he got to his feet and left the room.

***

The next morning, Henry ate breakfast alone, as was usual. Randall never joined him. Sometimes Oscar would, but after yesterday, Oscar would most likely be up in his room in a sulk for at least another few hours. Normally Henry would let him get on with it, but this morning he wanted to break the news to Oscar of his apprenticeship offer.

He finished his sensible breakfast of sardines on toast and then washed his plate, setting it away before slowly walking upstairs. There was no sound from Randall's bedroom, but he probably was genuinely asleep right now. There was also no sound from Oscar's bedroom, but that was more likely because he was in a huff.

Henry knocked on the door and waited a few moments before heading inside.

“Oscar? Good morning. I know that yesterday was difficult, but I wanted to try to make things up to you...”

He let that hang in the air as he walked in. The blankets were bundled together, just like Randall's had been yesterday. They were like father and son in the worst way possible. But this time, when Henry moved to the edge of the bed, he couldn't see the rise and fall of the blankets to indicate there was a person underneath.

“Oscar?”

Henry reached forward and pulled back the blanket to see... a pile of pillows and a single note.

_'Don't follow me.'_

Oh god... Oscar had skipped town. He'd gone with those drifters and left, hadn't he? But that Louis had seemed so reasonable, surely he'd have talked Oscar out of it.

Not wasting a second more, Henry fled the room and hurried to the station on the edge of town. They had to be leaving by train, that made the most sense. The train guard was surprised to see Henry Ledore of all people here this early in the morning, but she answered his questions all the same.

“Please, have you seen Oscar Ascot board any trains today or last night?” he asked.

“Sorry, Mr. Ledore, but I can't say I have.”

“What about the drifters who the police moved along yesterday, did they leave?”

“Some of them did, yeah. Some of them came this way and some of them took the bus. It didn't seem like they were all travelling together.”

“R-right. So was there a... a man – tall, with messy, black hair and glasses, red eyes – who got on the train?”

The train guard thought for a moment and then slowly nodded.

“Now that you mention it, there was someone like that,” she said, “One of that lot, right? He headed off in the early hours of the morning with one of the others. A younger lad, but he was bundled up, so it was hard to get a good look at him.

Oscar...

Oscar had skipped town with a broken nobody from nowhere at all...

It was... the worst thing that could've happened. Henry had failed to look after their family as Angela had asked him to. He would try to pursue the train, but they could've gotten off at any stop, so it'd be nearly impossible to track them. Then after a fruitless search, Henry would go back home to tell Randall, but most likely Randall wouldn't even react.

Henry was a strong person. He'd endured much in his life and done the best he could, despite all of the difficulties that had been thrown his way. But this? This was what finally broke him. He excused himself and headed into the stations bathroom, locking himself inside a cubicle. He wept for all the years that he should've cried when he held back the tears.


End file.
